


there's a dozen reasons in this gun

by badappple



Series: ShuAke Week 2020 Fics [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Corruption, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badappple/pseuds/badappple
Summary: The god is swathed in white and gold, chains resting within his hands. Looking human, but so far from any sort of humanity at the same time. It is the definition of holy. He is what perfection looks like. He is what control looks like.The god smiles calmly at Akechi, and Akechi feels Joker’s gaze darting over to him. He doesn’t even need to look to see the confusion and shock in those gray eyes.“I’ve been waiting for you.”Akechi Goro can still win this game.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: ShuAke Week 2020 Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016671
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	there's a dozen reasons in this gun

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ShuAke Week 2020, Day Two: Corruption, ~~Masks~~ and Games

If this is what Hell was, then it certainly wasn’t what Goro was expecting. 

He very well knows that he’s dead. Even though the blurred haze of blood loss, he remembers it too well. Down to the last detail, the tang of iron in the air and a chill creeping through his veins. He stared down that twisted thing wearing his face, whispered his last words to the attic trash who laid him and his emotions bare, and he closed his eyes for an eternity. 

But this, a jail cell in a room aggressively drenched in blue.. was a strange afterlife. Of course, Akechi didn’t believe that his place after death would be the stereotypical fire and damnation, but this didn’t seem like where a murderer would deserve to end up after death. 

It’s peaceful. Something like  _ him  _ doesn’t deserve ‘peaceful’. 

Akechi is truly a bit disappointed. This is a bit boring for his supposed afterlife. He would’ve imagined it’d be more grand, more torturous, more painful. God knows he’s earned something like that. Instead, he just feels overtly… _ normal. _

In fact, he doesn’t feel dead at all. 

Every last cell in his body is aching, it feels like he hasn’t moved in years. When he sits up, his bones and joints creak, quite like a corpse rising from the dead. 

Which, Goro supposes, is an apt way of putting it, considering that is what’s happening to him right now. 

It was only once he looked around more analytically that he saw where he was. A jail cell, with its door swinging open. 

Vines drenched in thorns twisted around the metal bars and walls of the cell, but there were no roses to be found on the ends. The vines slithered on and around, as if they were intelligently alive rather than just being mere thorned plants. 

When Akechi brought a hand up to it, the vine seemed to shirk away, not accepting him for a reason Akechi isn’t sure of. Oh, well. It seems not even fucking plants want him around. Figures. Dead or not, he’s still Akechi Goro, unwanted bastard from now until the end of time. 

Still, there seemed to be nothing in this cell. Boring. Painful damnation sounded better than this endless mess of boredom. All signs indicate that he’s the only person here, and no signs point to an exit of any sort.

Isolation breeds insanity. Lucky him. 

The door  _ was _ open, though. Nothing will happen if he just sits here and stews in his own misery. 

Getting onto his feet was a challenge on its own. It was as if his body was learning to walk again, like he’s forgotten how. Every step is excruciating. Atrophy seeps through every cell in his body.

After what feels like years, he finally steps out of the cell. The fog filling the room floor to ceiling disperses instantly. 

An odd scene greets him. Odder than most things he’s seen.

And of course, he’s here, too. 

_ Joker. _

As soon as he lays eyes on the thief, he feels it. The rush of psychosis and hatred that flows through his veins like his own blood. The horrid feelings of insanity and anger that flooded him in that wretched engine room were all coming back to him in an instant, at the sight of Kurusu’s face. 

But this didn’t feel like Loki. This felt  _ worse. _ He’s never felt hatred as potent as this in his life, never been infected with insanity as world-shattering. It felt artificial, incongruent, destructive. 

It’s hatred all the same. 

Joker standing beside a.. toddler? Akechi isn’t sure of her age, but she doesn’t look older than 6. Another one of his endless supply of friends, hm? What a shocker. Akechi considers crushing her skull in under his heel first just to see what Joker would do- before the thought made him feel disgusted with himself. 

Resorting so low as to harming a child like that, to see how Joker would react… What was wrong with him? Whatever it was, it was worse than usual. 

Thankfully, Joker didn’t seem to notice Akechi’s presence. He was far too busy staring down a floating man with a large nose. 

Was this a fever dream? It certainly felt like one. Or maybe  _ this _ was his afterlife, a strange mess filled with nonsensical hatred. What fun.

The long-nosed man was talking about something that he couldn’t hear. Akechi’s head felt like it was underwater. Nothing made sense anymore.

So Akechi takes another step forward. 

The man’s speech stops entirely. The confusion on Joker’s face is palpable. Akechi tenses, looks away. 

The feeling of wrongness permeates. The sense of incongruence grows.

Akechi blinks, and the long-nosed man is no longer there. In his place is what he can only describe as a god. The god’s eyes rake over Joker and the girl in a way that makes Akechi’s stomach curdle. 

The god is swathed in white and gold, chains resting within his hands. Looking human, but so far from any sort of humanity at the same time. It is the definition of holy _.  _ He is what perfection looks like. He is what control looks like. 

The god smiles calmly at Akechi, and Akechi feels Joker’s gaze darting over to him. He doesn’t even need to look to see the confusion and shock in those gray eyes. 

“I’ve been waiting for you.” 

The god’s voice echoes against Akechi’s skull. He clenches his fists as his sides. “What the hell are you?” 

The answer he gets is a simple one. It's a conclusion he’s already reached. 

“A god.” 

“Goro—“ Akira starts. Akechi’s jaw sets once he hears Akira use his given name like that. Akira has never used it before. “What are you doing here? I thought you were...” And he can't even force himself to say it.

The god answers before Akechi does. “He’s my champion. My chosen one.”

Akechi takes a step back in surprise. “Chosen one… enough with your bullshit,” his voice was a snarl. 

“Call it what you like. It’s the truth.” That damned smile didn’t leave the god’s face. “You were made to win this game. A trickster.” 

“Made to win? Against who. I already told you, enough.” 

There wasn’t an answer given this time. All Akechi needed to do was look back at Joker and  _ oh,  _ he understood perfectly. 

“...I lost, is that right?” His voice came out meeker than he wanted. “To him?” 

Another rush of psychotic anger bubbles up within him. He lost the game. He lost the game to fucking attic trash Kurusu Akira. Someone actually chose him,  _ wanted him,  _ and he lost he lost he lost he lost he  _ lost- _

“It seems that Igor was cleverer than I expected. Your downfall was assured from the beginning, unfortunately. From the moment of your birth, you were made to win. It seems he ruined that for you.” The god seemed apologetic towards Goro. He didn’t understand. Nobody’s ever apologized for dealing him a shitty hand before. Why was this god so different? 

“Assured, was it?” It was too funny. It was too  _ fucking funny _ . 

Akechi felt a laugh escape from his lips. Then another. Then another. 

He was in full-blown hysterics before he even knew it, tossing his head back and laughing with abandon. It was all too funny. 

“Of course it was! It was Kurusu- no,  _ Joker-“  _ Akechi spat the boy’s codename out, drenching the title in venom. “Who had to make me lose. Pathetic, shitty attic trash-“ 

Joker had the audacity to look sympathetic. Akechi wants to beat that look off of his face. “...Goro…” he murmurs, like he’s upset. 

Why the fuck is he upset? He won. He doesn’t get to be upset. 

“Don’t fucking talk to me like I’m someone who needs to be coddled,” Akechi shot back with venomous hatred. “You won.”

“I had no idea about it-“ 

“You won! Isn’t that enough!” 

Akechi had long since passed into the realm of full-blown screaming. It was hard for him to speak otherwise.

He had been guaranteed to win this game since the beginning of his life, he was finally wanted, desired, sought-after- and Joker just had to take all of that away, didn't he. 

(Still, some awful, depraved part of Goro couldn’t ignore the way Akira said his name like he truly regretted this, along with the way he’s looking at Akechi now…) 

“Why do you have to taunt me, Joker! Why are you looking at me like that- why are you acting like I need your pity!” 

He feels like he’s about to crack. He feels like he’s about to break. He feels like he’s about to shatter. 

He wants to wrap his hands around Joker’s throat. He wants to see the life leaving Joker’s eyes. He wants to cry over Joker’s dead body. He wants Joker to

He wants, he wants, he wants, he wants, he wants he wants he wants 

“...so.. I truly did lose, hm?” Akechi turns his attention back to the god, giggling softly to himself. “Then why am I here at all? Did you bring me here just so he could gloat?” He tilted his head, expression far too positive for his circumstances. 

The god smiles. Dread curls in Akechi’s chest despite himself. “Of course not. I brought you here for a reason. And one I think you’ll enjoy, at that.” 

That piqued Goro’s interest now. “Oh? Go on. Don’t waste my time.” 

He was lucky that God was patient with him.

“You still have a way to win. A final gambit, a trump card, whatever you want to call it.” God grasps Akechi’s chin.

The touch is fatherly, almost loving. God's skin is cold. 

“...Go on,” he repeated. Akechi’s voice was strained in a way it’s never been before.

“Humanity’s distortion lives within you. The hearts of the masses still need a champion. Accept me, and you shall fill that role.” 

Another biting laugh cuts through the hair. “Ridiculous.” Akechi was scowling now. “Do you honestly expect me to believe any of this?” 

God only smiled more. A finger trails down Akechi’s neck, stopping over his heart. 

_ Humanity’s distortion lives within you.  _

Akechi Goro’s eyes flash golden. Distantly, he registers his knees hitting the floor, yet he can’t move, he can’t do anything but listen. 

The malicious, hate-filled thoughts of humanity bounce around against his skull. Clamoring, screaming for release inside his head. Black drips down his chin, slips through his gloved fingers even when he slaps a hand over his mouth. 

Awful, terrible thoughts that even someone as monstrous as him would never think. He feels disgusted. His body feels unclean, after being exposed to this. 

He thinks he might be screaming, but he can’t hear anything over his own mind anymore. 

He tangles his hands through his hair, yanking at it, trying to look for some pain to ground him in reality. Nothing works. They never stop screaming within his head, he can’t think about anything else. 

_ hatred cruelty awfulness horror injustice treachery all dwell within his heart all of humanity’s distorted nature is him now this is who he is this is who he’s meant to be  _

he wants it to stop he wants it to stop he wants it he wants

It’s been centuries of this. Corruption buzzing in his head, spreading through him like rot. 

They’re all crying out for control. They’re all crying out for him. They want him. Everyone does. The world does.

It stops as quickly as it started. God was smiling at him again. 

There were tears streaming down his face. He doesn’t remember when he started crying. Black continued to leak from his mouth. 

God took a step closer to him. “That was the voice of all humanity. All yearning for you, their inciter of distortion.” 

Yearning for him. Wanting  _ him,  _ useless unwanted forgotten bastard Akechi Goro. 

He can’t even force himself to speak anymore. He stays on his knees, trembling. 

God places a crown of thorns on his head. He feels warmer now. It feels right. 

“You were meant to win. Take my deal, and you still can.” God extends a hand to him. 

“Akechi—“ Joker’s voice cuts through again. The thief steps closer. 

Joker looks vulnerable. Scared, even. Akechi has never seen Joker being  _ scared  _ before. Joker has faced monstrous demons in the Metaverse and he didn’t look as scared as he did now. 

“You can’t do this. Goro, please. We can fight this together, we can-“ 

“Shut up.” 

Joker is begging. He’s fucking begging. The unflappable leader of the Phantom Thieves is begging. Begging for Akechi, to Akechi. Akechi has held a gun to Joker’s forehead and ghosted his finger over the trigger and Joker still wasn’t begging. He is now.

(Of course, that hadn’t been him, really. Akechi couldn’t help but wonder if Akira would be begging then, just like this if it had been.)

“...Goro,” Joker murmurs under his breath. He sounds even more scared than before. He knows how this is going to end, but begs anyway. “Please. Listen to me.” 

Akechi finally meets his gaze. His stare is unguarded, openly fearful in a way that Akechi has never seen in Kurusu Akira before. 

A smile was blooming on Akechi’s face. He lingered on Joker for a while, before the roar of psychotic hatred in his head became too much, and he had to look away. 

God’s hand was still outstretched to him. Akechi Goro can win now. 

He wavers. Hesitates. If he does this, what will become of humanity, some rational and sane part of his mind whispers. Would he truly condemn the world to brainwashed adoration for him just for the sake of victory? 

If he does this, he’d become just like his father. A tyrannical piece of shit who doesn’t care what happens to the world as long as he benefits. As long as he  _ wins. _ If he chooses this, he’ll become the type of person he hates so much.

But if he doesn’t do this, Joker remains at the top. He stays the victor, and Akechi will always be second best. Never fucking good enough. This victory will remain ripped from his hands for good. 

Akechi swallows harshly. He can’t do this. He can’t choose this outcome, he can’t, he  _ can’t pull the trigger again he can’t- _

...

Akechi Goro is pointing his gun at Joker's forehead again. The barrel is kissing Joker's skin.

Joker was still pleading with him, but his voice feels so far away that Akechi can’t even hear him anymore. 

A single glance back at Joker is all the confirmation he needs. 

A dead man has nothing more to lose. 

Akechi Goro pulls the trigger in the interrogation room again. Kurusu Akira’s blood splatters on the walls again.

Akechi Goro takes the hand of God. 

And he feels  _ holy.  _

**Author's Note:**

> i've seen so much yaldabaoth!akira and nothing for akechi so i gave myself the brainworms with this one.. anyways this was rlly self indulgent but i hope it was still good!!
> 
> twt is @badappplle , i'll talk about wips and stuff (it may get 18+ doe)


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